Funny Faces
by GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
Summary: Lovino is a sniper, fearless and undefeated. During the war he faces off with another sniper and wins, but why isn't he happy? Fail summary...This is basically off the short story, "The Sniper". Don't like, don't read. Just needed something to post.


A/N: Wow, my first fanfiction and I've already messed it up! I have a whole box full of ideas in the back of my mind and yet I decide to do something stupid like adding Hetalia characters into an ALREADY EXISTING story. Yes, this fails, but I wanted to at least add something or else I feel like just a stalker of this site who doesn't post any stories at all. I don't want to be that, so please just tolerate this for now until I can add something presentable, please? I might delete this later once I have some of my original stories up, so be patient! Oh yeah, I couldn't find an awesome name for this at all, so...yeah. By the way, the story I ripped off of is, "The Sniper". I like that short story...anyway, probably should stop talking/typing now, right?

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or "The Sniper", okay? Dudes, almost none of this is mine.

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Sprawled on his stomach, army style, Lovino lay atop the roof of an unknown building. He was tensed and ready to shoot yet another unsuspecting victim with his prized sniper skills, silently surveying the dreary city below; he was searching for the telltale navy blue color of the opposing side's military uniform. As he was lying in wait, Lovino sighed, then proceeded to pull a tomato sandwich in a plastic bag out of the inside pocket of his own tan military jacket.

Lovino grimaced at the rather poor state his sandwich as he removed it from the bag. The pieces of bread were soaked through, and the tomato slices were slimy, warm, and looked extremely unappetizing. He'd been lying on it all day; it was to be expected. The bread he could deal with, for it had just been there to protect the tomato. But even when he went to such measures during a war to satisfy his daily fill—no, need— of delicious tomatoes, the abomination that was in front of his face hardly seemed delicious.

Agonizing over whether to eat or not to eat, Lovino tucked the soggy bread back into the bag and stuffed the tomatoes in his mouth. He scowled deeply, not liking the taste at all. Swallowing, Lovino tossed the bag to the side, and it skittered just out of his arm's reach. Alarmed at how surprisingly noisy that was, he froze. Nothing happened.

When Lovino realized he'd not been detected, he had felt slightly more daring and poked his head over the small ledge of the roof. Nothing. He sneered. Lovino was all alone. The air was quiet, except for the war noises of gunshots and the yelling of determined men, fighting for their beliefs.

Lovino chuckled and slipped a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket into his hand. This was dangerous, he knew; lighters for some reason made a spark hard to miss, particularly in the dim gloom in which he was situated, for the clouds had been covering the sun for what seemed like forever. He decided to take the chance, since seemingly no one was around to see. Though as soon as Lovino clicked the lighter, he instantly regretted it.

A bullet immediately whizzed past Lovino's head, grazing his ear and burning his flesh. He let out a small yelp and ducked down behind the tiny roof ledge below which offered little to no protection. Panting heavily, he attempted to regain his breath and composure to prepare for another peek over the ledge, though it didn't really sound all that appealing. Though before he could get his head completely out there, another bullet zoomed through his hair, almost yanking it out as it had probably gotten caught in a tangle, knot, matted hair, or whatever. You get the idea.

Lovino suddenly remembered his tomato sandwich bread and was inspired. He chucked his forgotten food over the side and it was instantaneously shot at as it was tumbling down towards the city below.

Lovino began to think, the gears turning in his brain when all of a sudden, car appeared and a woman popped out of it. She started pointing up at him from the street, speaking to the driver of the car.

An informer.

The man in the driver's seat stepped out and looked up at the spot he was hidden.

Lovino swiftly pulled his sniper in position, aimed, and shot them both in the head. The gasps of surprise and the funny looks on their faces made Lovino sport an amused smirk.

He was used to war—it was actually incorporated into his daily life now. He was used to seeing death. Yet for some reason, he never failed to feel satisfied when he saw a person die surprised, mainly if it was his doing.

The man, now crumpled in an awkward pose, bled quietly onto the street. Beside him was the woman, splayed across a sewer drain on the road, gushing blood. The two appeared immensely different, complete opposites, even.

Not giving them another thought, the gears in Lovino's skull were set in motion again. His lips curved into a wry smile. He poked the head of his sniper over the ledge of the roof, and as he'd thought, it was shot at. Lovino faked a choked scream and let his arm fall limp off the side of the roof, allowing his sniper to slide to his fingertips. He hung it there for a while before he unhooked the tips of his fingers and the gun fell to the ground.

Lovino let his arm linger over the edge a little before he quietly retracted it, bringing it close to his body. Holding his breath, he waited. When he deemed it safe, he lifted his head to stare at this other sniper.

The other sniper had climbed to his feet, leaving his sniper on the rooftop beside them. In his eyes there was regret and sorrow. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he gazed at the place where Lovino lay.

Lovino gave him a once over before pulling his pistol. He took careful aim; he one had one shot before he knew he was alive, after all.

Giving his silhouette a last glace, Lovino cocked his gun.

Then he pulled the trigger.

The man gasped as the bullet penetrated his heart; his features scrunching up and his face muscles contracting as he cried out in agony. Tears cascaded down his face as he staggered blindly off the roof and fell backwards onto a sign. He yelped as the sign connected with his back, and then whimpered when he slid off the sign, continuing his excruciatingly painful journey to the ground. He flipped while airborne and hit the pavement face first with a smack, blood spattering everything around and painting his surroundings crimson.

Lovino grinned manically, standing up to catch a better glimpse of his victim. Of all his surprise kills this one fulfilled him the most. He almost felt apologetic, but he quickly shook that off.

Unexpectedly, Lovino grew an interested in his kill and decided to go have a look at him. It was strange, he had never really been concerned about his victim's identities, but apparently this one had sparked the curiosity in him. He ran down the steps of the building and sprinted out the front door across the street. Machine guns shot at him, but he expertly maneuvered himself through the stationary cars and weaved between openings towards the body.

When Lovino reached the corpse, he kneeled next to the man and the machine guns ceased fire, most likely curious as to what he was doing.

Lovino gently lifted the man off the cement, for he was still face down at the time. Blood oozed through Lovino's fingers and he grimaced, disgusted and questioning himself why he ever wanted to see this man who had only ever been a hindrance, an obstacle, in his life.

He turned the man over to stare agape into the face of his brother.

Lovino gawked, absolutely stunned for what seemed eternity at his younger brother's face, taking in his feature, ones that were so alike his own. Lovino was sickened with himself for what he'd done. His nose was broken and his entire front swimming, no, drowning in red. The curl they both shared was dampened with blood and clung to his cheek, not bouncing in the air like it usually did. And worst of all, his face was stuck in a shocked expression, a funny face, as Lovino would have called it, on anyone, anyone else but him.

Lovino silently lugged his arm up to his fratello's face and closed his eyes and relaxed his face muscles until he had a somewhat peaceful look to his features, aside from, well, obviously the blood and broken nose.

Softly, Lovino laid his brother to rest on the sidewalk. Standing up, Lovino turned around and was blasted in the face by a barrage of bullets. Lovino's face twisted into one of surprise as he crashed on top of his brother. Lovino rolled off of him face first into the street and grunted in pain as he landed with a dull thud. Exhausted and lacking any more strength, Lovino lay there helplessly, awaiting his inevitable death.

_"…Wish I could've…seen…my face…"_


End file.
